


His Green Light

by strawberrypop11



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (1974), The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: 1920s, Bad Friend Tom Buchanan, Crushes, Disabled Character, Doubt, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Implied Relationships, Implied Slash, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by The Great Gatsby, M/M, Multi, Obsessive Behavior, Old Sport (The Great Gatsby), One-Sided Attraction, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Romantic Friendship, Self-Doubt, Shooting, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, The Great Gatsby References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29908992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrypop11/pseuds/strawberrypop11
Summary: After Gatsby’s near-death experience, he becomes the shell of the man he once was. Scared out of his wits, he declared the truths he has to live by now. Those being, that he wouldn’t throw any more lavish parties. No more standing on his dock and reaching out to the unreachable green light. Gatsby would shut out everyone completely, everyone except for Nick.
Relationships: Daisy Buchanan/Tom Buchanan, Nick Carraway & Jay Gatsby, Nick Carraway/Jay Gatsby, Past Relationships - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

There was an outcry when it all went down. 

The Press took the story of a millionaire being shot by a poor man on his own property, playing with its truths like Telephone. They were more worried about the rich man’s image after this faux scandal than his actual condition. While rumors around The Eggs spread like wildfire of Gatsby’s mysterious “mistress,” who they say, was simply caught in the crossfire for his own devilish motives, and simply her husband wanted revenge. The rumors fogged the area, even when Gatsby was found bleeding out on the side of his pool, it tainted his image. The man who was responsible for this tragedy laid in a broken heap a few feet away from the gory scene. But as that day faded and more came soon after, it was revealed that the situation wasn’t all death and sorrow. No, Nick would come to find out, when he was reading the paper one morning on his porch, that his dear friend miraculously lived. He nearly cried in relief when his eyes scanned the caption of that paper's front page. 

**_The Mysterious Man of West Egg; Jay Gatsby, Lives!_ **

The striking words soothed him more and more as he read on. Nick learned that Gatsby was spotted by his groundskeeper and rushed to the nearest hospital. Reading that the ambulance zoomed down the city streets as fast as they could go. And somehow, just somehow, by God's will, Nick dared to confess; Jay Gatsby was starting to make a recovery on his deathbed. The blurriness in his eyes became too much to bear as he saw the unwanted droplets fall upon the paper. Leaving nothing but thick gray ovals that tarnished and bled the ink together; its message no longer coherent. He sniffed wetly in silence, the only presence to comfort him were the trees and the early-morning breeze. Slowly, he folded the paper neatly and sat it down beside him. 

Nick rubbed away the wetness and exhaustion from his eyes with his robe’s sleeve, before entangling his hands in his hair. He took a glance up at the sky. And in all its blue glory, stared back at him. But it wasn’t with intimidation like that forsaken billboard in the Valley of Ashes. No, the sky gave him content and a humble beginning. He mouthed the words that were present in his mind. 

“Thank you.” 

* * *

It was a few weeks later and Gatsby was still in the hospital. Nick wanted to go and visit him. He tried to on a couple of occasions, just to see him. Though when he arrived, he was turned down by the staff at the reception desk.

 _"He’s still resting, Mr. Carraway.”_ they would say, or, _“Give him some time.”_

And that’s all they said to him, nothing more. 

But every day, Nick would come out of his home with hope. He would lie in the sand on the beachfront and stare at the extravagant mansion that laid next to his. Periodically, he would glance at the windows. Hoping he would catch a glimpse of a familiar face.

It was odd for him. 

Ever since he moved to West Egg, he always felt the imposing stare of Gatsby on him. The idea, though disturbing at first, thrilled Nick to greater amounts once he got used to it. And it got even better when Nick started, to some degree, accept his growing attraction to Gatsby in the following months after meeting him. But on some days, the days where Nick sat on his porch with a warm cup of coffee in his hand, would feel incredibly lonely. 

He knew his friend needed to recover, there was no need for haste. The man took a bullet for Christ’s sake, maybe even more! But it didn’t stop Nick’s mind from wandering far beyond the known truth. 

Gatsby was the only man, Nick could say this with pure honesty in his heart, that understood him. He never felt undermined like he did in Tom’s presence, or groomed by his cousin and the other women in his life. Never felt belittled like the others in his class. Instead, he found solace and acceptance with his neighbor. 

He felt...dare he say, love?

Nick let out an ugly snort when pondering that possibility. There was no way, no possible way for a man to love another man in that sense. It was sinful, it was horrid, absurd!

“It’s preposterous,” he muttered to himself as he stood up. Brushing off some of the sand from his britches, he took one more glance at the Gatsby residence. It stood lonesome without its master to inhabit it. And the man couldn’t help but sympathize with the building. 

Though, Nick suddenly broke out of his thoughts. From afar Nick could hear a loud shrill. Its sound spooked him, and for a minute, he thought it was a person in need of help. Though when it came again, Nick realized it wasn’t a person making those noises, it was his landline. 

Someone was calling him. 

A thread of excitement lit inside Nick’s core as his legs carried him to his home. Stumbling up the stairs and into the open door, he ran inside, speeding past the many flowers that now adorned his home, all of the luscious flowers were standing tall and elegant. Shining brighter than the sun itself; not a speck of imperfection shown.

Nearly tripping over himself, Nick heard the shrill again and looked to his right, seeing his telephone shaking. Suddenly, the excitement that was bubbling inside him, deteriorated. His whole world seemed to evaporate away. As if he were in a box with no light inside of it, and it was just him and the phone now.

“What if it’s Gatsby?” he asked himself quietly, the question echoing off the walls. 

‘What should he say?'

'What _could_ he say?’

Feeling like a fish out of water at that moment, Nick still took a few hesitant steps towards the device. All the while it kept ringing. Like a siren song to a young sailor’s ears, drawing Nick in closer. He licked his lips before reaching forward, and with a trembling hand, picked up the receiver. Gulping down a bunch of nerves from his throat, he brought it up closer and spoke. 

“C-carraway’s residence, Nick speaking,”

“Geez, Shakespear, with your tone, one would think we’re total strangers.” 

His nervousness collapsed immediately once he heard that deep baritone voice that belonged to his cousin’s husband. His lips curved into a frown and his eyes hardened at the phone as if he were glaring at Tom in person. 

“What do you want, Tom?” Nick asked, turning to lean his back up against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest he turned his attention from Tom's voice to the flowers in his living room. 

“What?” Tom’s clear annoyance leaked through his usual joking tone, “Can’t give my good buddy a call?” 

“I ain’t your buddy,” Nick stated abruptly, before realizing his mistake too late.

A snarl ripped through the line. The sound of it was so animalistic and it made Nick want to hang up then and there. But he didn’t and he couldn’t understand why he didn’t. Maybe it was him being stupid, or maybe he’d grown a sprout of confidence lately, Nick wasn’t so sure. 

“Oh, I see it clearly!” Tom cried, causing Nick to break out of his dilemma, “You’ve also been bewitched by that goddamn cake-eater!*.” 

“Tom I-”

“No!” 

“You’re going to side with a bootlegger, over _me_ , Nick?” Tom asked condescendingly, “A cripple, a nobody, is that it?” 

Nick at first wanted to cuss the man out for saying those things. Wanted to tell him that Gatsby was more of a man than Tom ever would be. But as he registered fully what Tom was saying to him, the more he wanted to ask questions. But when the thought came, Nick’s voice suddenly went dry and a bead of sweat trailed down the side of his head. The fear for the worst planted itself in his mind and gut, festering inside his inners like a pile of thorns; cutting deeper and deeper as his eyes went unfocused. 

“A cripple?” 

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Tom asked in a voice laced in a pseudo ignorance that pierced Nick’s thoughts. Tom's tone felt derogatory and it made Nick want to rethink everything he’s ever said to the man up until this moment. Even the fictional sentences he would say to that bastard in a made-up setting, he wanted to take back. 

“I thought everybody knew”

“Knew what?” Nick asked desperately. “What don’t I know Tom?”

“Oh, nothing Nickie, just that one of that cake-eater's legs don’t work no more.” Tom chuckled like he was somehow amused by that fact. It made Nick sick to his stomach. 

“The Great Gatsby ain’t so great when he has to walk with a cane, Nick.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ou think, what you like, I love to read those kinds of things. Anyway, have a good day! There will be more in the future for sure ♥
> 
> 1920's slang terms:
> 
> Cake-Eater: A "ladies man" though later, it's slang for a homosexual.
> 
> Also to clarify my use of "cripple" I know it isn't politically correct to call handicapped people cripples, but with the time period that the story of The Great Gatsby is set in, I had to use those insensitive terms so the story sounds like it was written during that era. There was, unfortunately, a lot of politically incorrect language used back then, and if that word upsets you, I'm very sorry, and I wanted to let you know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the phone call with Tom, Nick worries about Gatsby's predicament.

It was a few days after the phone call with Tom.

Nick knew that Tom was a man who tended to pull everybody’s leg once in a while. He knew this like it was bonding. But usually, when he would joke, he did it in a lighthearted way. A bit forward at times, but he still didn’t want anybody to get harmed in the long-run. Though, that phone call was different.

There was no humor in any crevice of his words. They instead acted like bricks of torment that would crush Nick’s soul every time he would reflect on their conversation. The idea of Gatsby being disfigured in that way just couldn’t be true. So, Nick kept himself busy and tried his damndest to ignore Tom’s words that have no doubt, pierced his core. It was the only thing he could do. 

Nick went to work on the following Monday, two weeks after Gatsby got shot, with a grim expression, and went on with his business like he would any other normal day. But in reality, all Nick was focused on was the real outcome of his friend.

“He’s going to be just fine,” Nick said under his breath as he filled out some paperwork. 

The sun had long set, so his office was lit by a few scented candles. Nick thought that if he worked overtime, he could ignore the picture of Gatsby in his mind, but it was no use. Everywhere, he saw that handsome face, even in the ugliest of his coworkers. He saw Jay’s captivating eyes and his reassuring smile every time someone wanted something from him. 

Nick broke out of his trance when he noticed that he was gripping his pen a little too tightly, making his hand cramp up. The man turned his attention back to his work, staring at the words on the document below him. In hindsight, the piece of paper was only asking for Nick’s signature. But no matter what, he couldn’t make sense of it. With a frustrated sigh, Nick brought his pen down harshly upon his workspace. Noticing how the sweat was starting to leak from his hair, trailing down his face and into his shirt’s collar. He tried wiping away the fluid but to no avail, and like a waterfall, it kept pouring. 

Nick felt the air in the room suddenly turn stuffy. Then he started to feel the need to get out of there entirely. Standing up from his chair, Nick grabbed his coat and hat that were hung on a rack beside his desk. He shrugged the items on fast and then and there, decided it was his time to go home. Without a second glance back towards his desk, he walked through the exit and was met with the cool nighttime air. 

With a shaky sigh, Nick took a glance up at the stars in the sky. Paralyzed, he stood there on the sidewalk. The stars were very bright in all of their white glory. The mere sight of them made Nick remember how Gatsby’s eyes shined at the party. How they shook Nick to his core and filled him with euphoria. 

It was the first time they met and Nick was instantly captivated, even if it was before he knew Gatsby was even Gatsby. His heart raced at the memory as Nick tucked his hands in his coat pockets. Then he stood there for a while, with his neck cranked up high. Nick allowed himself to marvel at the constellations, just for that moment. Though he couldn’t help but see the flaws in the stars’ arrangements; it was human nature to see faults in everything. Nonetheless, as he continued to gaze, he never considered the stars to be wrong. Instead, Nick found the stars to be much more admirable.

With a smile and a shaky exhale, Nick, for the first time in a long while, allowed himself to be at peace. 

“Tom doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” 

* * *

On the ride from his workplace to his house, Nick took a route that would pass by the hospital that Gatbsy was staying in. The hospital was a high-end one, no doubt. It had everything that a man like Gatsby deserves in order to get better, and that thought alone made Nick’s prior worry dissolve. However, when Nick’s eyes trailed on all the lit windows, he felt a strange, desperate need to turn into the hospital’s parking lot. So he could find and be in the room Gatsby was staying in. Though, as soon as he thought that, the voices of the hospital staff ranged in his ears and he shut down that fantasy and continued on driving towards his bungalow. 

Upon arriving at his house, Nick got out of his car and looked over at his neighbor’s mansion. Still, it was empty and silent. Nick felt the racing of his heart once more and with a frown, he went inside his house and watered all of the flowers he had. Once he was finished, he dragged himself to bed and fell into a dead slumber. A few days after that one, he did the same thing, and then suddenly, that was a life Nick quickly became accustomed to. It was still eerily quiet without Gatsby, but it wasn’t unbearable, so Nick managed; somewhat. 

In the weeks that followed after the shooting of Jay Gatsby, Nick felt nothing but transparency. It didn’t help that the quiet and dusty phone that hung on Nick’s wall would ring in calls every other day, either. Usually, the caller was either Jordan Baker, who would ask him how he was doing, which he would always respond to her with reassurance. And afterwards, she would proposition him to drive through the city with her. Sometimes it would be one of his coworkers wanting to buy him a drink or two at a local Speakeasy. But whether it would be Jordon calling him or a mere acquaintance, he always declined their invitation for an outing. Their ideas weren’t bad per se, and if it were another time, he would gladly go through the city with Jordan, or get a well-earned drink to a job-well-done. But now he found himself not wanting to do any of that. Maybe later, Nick would say to himself, when Gatsby got out of the hospital, but not now. 

* * *

Sunday mornings, in Nick’s opinion, always soothed him. Though by no means was he ever a religious guy, never was, never would be. But it was something about Sundays that made Nick feel mellow. He thought of it as just a clear day of peace. A day where he didn’t have to worry about working, or the people in his life. Hell, when Gatsby was still out and about, he didn’t have to worry about the noise his parties would bring, Gatsby only favored Saturdays for his chaotic get-togethers. And though Nick did enjoy his Saturday, he still went for the latter. Nothing would beat a day where he can just sit on his porch and do his crossword puzzles while drinking some hot coffee, or creamy tea- if he felt like making it. 

And this Sunday was no different. 

Nick was on his last puzzle when he felt the gentle breeze push back his messy hair, creating an opening between the curtains that covered his eyes. Nick saw the glimmer of the water from a distance as it gently called his name. From time to time again, he would just sit and gaze at its beauty. Nick found the color of the bay to be so serene. Its crystal blue hue made for a wonderful centerpiece between The Eggs. The way it glistened at all hours of the day and how it brought the addicting scent of freshwater to Nick’s tongue, made it all the merrier. However, as Nick pondered, he came to the idea that the bay’s existence was somewhat distracting. Not in the sense that it was harmful, quite the contrary, but it rubbed Nick the wrong way whenever he stared at its depths for too long. As if he was infringing on its purpose.

Nick felt the air around him thicken as he focused more on the water. A sign that the late-morning heat was starting to come in. In all his time living in West Egg, he has never enjoyed a relaxing day out on the water. It was a private beachfront, so he wouldn’t be disturbed if he so dared to swim. 

After giving it much thought and with few sips from his mug, Nick decided he wanted to go for a swim. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no signs of Gatsby? Don't worry he's coming soon! Thank you all for reading in, I hope you have a wonderful day. And if you have some criticism or just anything in general, please leave it down below, I'll try my best to respond to you, so bear with me! ♥

**Author's Note:**

> More coming Soon!


End file.
